


i am loved, you know

by jade304



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade304/pseuds/jade304
Summary: The priestess adores spending time with her.





	i am loved, you know

 

The priestess is much too aggressive as she combs through her hair; she moves her hands through it roughly, tugging whenever she hits a knot, yanking her entire head back in her attempts at a style. The little girl hums happily to herself as she goes, sometimes opting to drag a brush through her hair like Furiae was her favorite life-sized doll.

They sit together in Furiae’s room in the fortress; Furiae in her own chair, the priestess standing on a taller stool behind her to reach the back of her head. The older woman keeps her eyes straight ahead, staring through the guards at the door, though they seem to stare through her without any acknowledgement that she’s there.

_(Nearly ‘round-the-clock there was at least one guard with her. Their presence bothered her at first – she was accustomed to the hierarch at least giving her a degree of privacy – but they still remained completely unmoving and unfeeling towards her. Until she crosses too close to her door, she may as well not exist to them.)_

Somewhere to her left, though she can’t check for the hands constantly pulling her head around, sits Inuart. He joins the guards in the silent stare down as well, though he keeps his eyes firmly attached on her unlike the other red-eyed companions, and she can _feel_ him looking at her. Though his presence probably should be a comfort, it makes her skin crawl more than the soulless guards.

“Your hair is so nice,” The priestess says, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“T-thank you,” Furiae whispers. The girl gives a happy hum and tears out another clump of her hair. Her voice is entirely free of the malicious entities buried underneath, and that unsettles her more than if they had been there at all.

 

 

 

The priestess _adores_ spending time with her.

She can’t figure out why.

The arrival of a large number of guards one morning was a blessing in disguise; if they were coming in large numbers, then maybe _he_ was coming, or maybe they were finally carrying her off to die _(both would be blessings now, either he or death would be the only blessing from the increasing weight of broken seals)_

It was only the priestess, carrying a number of dolls with her.

“Play with me," was all she said, her voice carrying no trace of the Watcher’s tongue, none of its echo and venom. Just a small child, making demands.

She looked around the room for any possible escape; a few of the guards stood back in line against the door, affirming that this probably wasn’t going to be something she could worm her way out of.

“I…okay,” She said. Her voice sounded terribly small even to her own ears. “What shall we play?”

“House,” The priestess said. She sat down all the dolls next to Furiae on the bed, depositing the last one on her lap. “That’s One. You can play as her.”

“Okay.”

“This is Three,” The explained, holding up the purple doll. “She’s also got lots of dolls, but not these ones. The other ones.”

“Do you...have others?”

“Nope. But she does.”

So much like any other child’s reasoning with their toys, but it made Furiae want to find a window and crawl out of it. She heard the young girl’s speeches to the soldiers, her voice twisted and deep and echoing loudly throughout the walls of the fortress. It was terrifying to listen to, but it was predictable. She could be the goddess, the seal that the Watchers held captive. This was not something that she could be. She could not make sense of what the young girl wanted, hopping up on the bed next to her and picking up the Three doll, making it walk over to her and chattering nonsense in place of its words. For a moment, she could almost find the girl endearing.

Almost.

The priestess returned the next day with the same dolls, but this time, the guards following behind her carried several sharp daggers as well.

“Today we’re going to kill them.”

Her voice was bright and happy as she handed Furiae the same doll from yesterday. The Imperial soldier deposited the pile of daggers on the bed next to her; a few tumbled down to brush her side from her weight.

“Make sure she can’t run away.”

It was the only warning the priestess gave as she punctured the doll’s eye with one of the daggers, letting out a mad giggle of delight. Furiae gasped; the pointed tip punctured through the doll’s head, barely grazing her torso.

The priestess giggled and sang as she did the same to the other dolls, all spread out on the bed around her. Furiae held the doll tightly in her hands, shaking despite herself.

“Okay! Now let’s play house again.”

The girl set back up the impaled dolls, ready for another day of playing, and Furiae wanted to cry.

 

 

 

“There!” The girl says. She pats down her hard work for good measure, then jumps off her stool to get a full view of her work. Furiae can feel most of her hair tied back in a haphazard knot, a ribbon weaved throughout. It’ll probably be a nightmare to comb out later, but the priestess looks pleased with it.

“What do you think?” She asks. It’s not a question for her – she looks at Inuart when she asks the question. Furiae looks at him, silently pleading, helpless, but he gives the girl a bright and genuine smile.

“I think she looks lovely.”

She wants to scream, to kick Inuart into the wall of metal bodies at the door and cry and call him every foul name rushing through her head right now for being so damn _stupid._ But his eyes are the same brilliant red as the priestess, as the guards, and he looks at her with what he likely believes to be adoration, but all she can feel is her stomach twisting.

 

 

_She woke up from her brief slumber, not even realizing she’d fallen asleep. The priestess is draped across her lap, a doll wrapped tightly in one arm and her other wrapped tightly around Furiae’s leg. She grips at the fabric of her dress in her sleep, frowning._

_“Mother…Mother, I just want to play…mother…”_

_She rolls over in her sleep, tumbling off the woman’s lap, and Furiae backs away in fright._

They’re all staring into her with the same identical red eyes. They all demand something from her – a goddess, a fiancé, a companion to play with, and she can do naught but sit and let them. 

“You’ve got lots and lots of pretty hair,” The little girl says, nodding when Inuart acknowledges her efforts. “Can we play dress up again tomorrow?”

The girl’s voice crackles on the _tomorrow,_ and she feels tears spring to her eyes.

“…Okay.”

 

 

_They demand everything from her, but she is empty and weak and a fraud in all things, and can offer them nothing._

_Only this, she thinks, as one of the child’s daggers pierces her breast and blood bubbles forth, is the best thing that I can give any of them._

_She can’t bear his eyes on her, but the child does not look away._

 


End file.
